


His Robert, Her Robert

by TheonSugden



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: F/M, M/M, homophobic slur, lack of self-worth, some sex talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 04:12:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3313481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheonSugden/pseuds/TheonSugden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chrissie and Aaron each think about the man they love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Robert, Her Robert

_The first time I saw him, I’d just gotten back into the office after a break. He was arguing about proper Dothraki pronunciations with Maurice in shipping. He was wearing the ugliest jumper I’d ever seen in my life, and ridiculously baggy trousers. He had his feet on his desk. He was so sweet and so shy that when I took him to task, he actually blushed. Blushed._

Proper twat in a leather jacket that cost more than a few countries. Flash car and no time for muck like me. Took everything I had not to smack him in the face every time I saw him, and I saw him plenty. Every time I did, I looked a little more, and…I dunno. I saw something. 

_He courted me. A gentleman to make Jane Austen weep. He took me on an honest-to-God picnic. He didn’t even try to hold my hand until I was ready. He was so sweet I called him my own private cavity. Of course I knew he had to be putting on an act - a man with a face and body like that had to be - but the act was for my benefit. He cared. Do you know how many men in my life had ever cared about me? One…and I call him Dad._

Had my share of fellas, especially in France; not much else to do most of the time. Nice and all, but not much above blowin’ my load in a Kleenex. Getting off to get off. With him, even that first time, in the back of some poor bugger’s car while his missus was waitin’ down the street, it was never just sex. Maybe it was, but it was everything I’d heard sex was supposed to be. One night, after…after he’d left, I slid my hand down my shorts, thought about his cock and his arse and his fingers and his lips and his tongue and his toes. Came so hard I just about fuckin’ blacked out. Even now, just thinking about it…I guess you don’t wanna hear that.

_Oh, don’t get me wrong. We have a terrific sex life. He’s inventive, and he does absolutely marvelous things with his tongue, and he makes me laugh. I don’t think I’ve ever had fun in bed until Robert. It’s just that he took his time, because his time was my time, if that makes any sense?_

Expected the sex - he’d been pretty clear what we were about. It was the rest I couldn’t…I can’t figure out. He was worried about me. Tried to make me feel better. Really looked at me. Not my mouth or my backside or which side I dressed on. I wanted to ask him what game he was playin’ when he let me cry, when he listened to me, when he made me laugh, but I was scared to say the words. I knew if I did, he’d stop. He’d look at me like I was nothin’. And without him, I was.

_Dad always wanted me far away from him. I know fathers protect their little girls, but he did everything but drug him and put him in bed with a gaggle of showgirls. Are they called gaggles? Anyway, I put my foot down. I never told Robert, but part of the reason was how much I needed to stand up to my father. Only a small part. The rest was all Robert. He made me feel happy and alive and complete. Alright, fine, something inside me has never fully trusted him, but that’s my problem, not his. He’s never given me a reason to doubt his love._

Don’t think anybody who fusses over me would want me with Robert. Probably think I’m just throwing my toys out, pushing to get a reaction. They’d be wrong. You’d be wrong. I don’t want a fella to cut me crusts and ask me how my day was. I want a man who riles me up…who can make me and break me in one breath. A man who makes me feel alive, even if it means I spend half the time wishin’ I was dead. 

_I don’t want perfect beautiful boys at my father’s elbow, flaw-free in their immaculate boring boxes. Robert taught me how to live and how to love. I never thought I’d feel this way again. Call me melodramatic, but I don’t want to stop. I can’t. I refuse._

I was the best boyfriend I could be to Jackson. After what I did to him, I owed him. And most of me died with him. The rest of me…I can’t just be the best mate or fix a motor or make my mam smile. Not anymore. I never asked for it, but he got in me and he won’t let go. Even if he does, I don’t wanna let him go. I don’t care if it’s good for me or bad for me or whatever the fuck you call it. It just is. 

_He’s my husband. I love him. I love him more than I ever thought humanly possible. I don’t give a damn if you call him a toyboy or a trophy. He’s mine. And if you don’t understand, if you look at me and shake your head or laugh behind your hand, then I pity you. I love him. I love him and that’s that._

I’d kill for him. I already did. I’d do it again. When you look at me, it’s him you see. “Poor little poofter, putty for a closet case.” Say it all you want - I don’t give a shit. He taught me to love again and he’s why I get outta bed and why I can still look in the mirror without feelin’ sick and sad all over. If you don’t get it, fuck you. I don’t care. I love him. I love him. I’ll love him until the day I die. He’s me man. He always will be. Always.


End file.
